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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937937">an almost, a first, and a future</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritscript/pseuds/spiritscript'>spiritscript</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Awkward First Times, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Nothing explicit, mature themes, set after their third year, they try, will I ever not clown Atsumu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:40:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritscript/pseuds/spiritscript</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>There is nothing, <em>nothing</em>, to be nervous about, he tells himself. This is fine. It’s fine. It’s <em>so</em> fine, he tells himself. There is no reason to feel nervous. He’s just going to hang out with his boyfriend, alone in his room. Alone. And all of that is totally fine, he tells himself.</p>
  <p>Well, he tries to.</p>
</blockquote>Suna and Osamu... attempt their first time
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SunaOsa, SunaOsa Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>an almost, a first, and a future</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for SunaOsa Week. Day two, tier one: first/last</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is a normal day. It is an entirely unspectacular day. There is nothing to worry about. It is just another day. His parents aren’t home, his brother isn’t home and Suna is coming over. That’s it. That is all. Suna has been over many times when it was just them. Alone.  </p><p>It is just another normal day.</p><p>Yet Osamu sits on the edge of his bunk bed that has been entirely too small for both him and his brother long before they turned eighteen, rubbing his palms on the material of his shorts. He tries once again to wet his lips and swallow the lump in his throat, hoping to quell the insatiable fluttering in his heart and stomach. He glances at the little plastic bag perched neatly beside him and stands up, paces the room exactly three times, sits down again, and repeats these actions once more. </p><p>There is nothing, <em>nothing</em>, to be nervous about, he tells himself. This is fine. It’s fine. It’s <em>so</em> fine, he tells himself. There is no reason to feel nervous. He’s just going to hang out with his boyfriend, alone in his room. Alone. And all of that is totally fine, he tells himself. </p><p>Well, he tries to.</p><p>His whole body jolts at the sound of the door bell, and he’s on his feet nearly running to it before the bell has even finished ringing. He forces himself to stop half-way through the kitchen, tries to steady his breathing, rubs his hands on his shorts again, attempts to contain whatever is electrifying his system, and fails at two of those three things.</p><p>He has played in high school national tournaments, has dealt with the pressure of being one half of ‘The famed Miya twins of Inarizaki high school volleyball club,’ and is starting university so he can eventually own his own food business. He has been nervous before, he has felt pressure before, he has been embarrassed before, he should be immune to jitters and all other related feelings, no matter how peripheral.</p><p>Yet as he stands in the middle of his kitchen, blood thrumming through his veins heating his ears and something in his abdomen, he decides he has to admit it: he is nervous. He is really fucking nervous.</p><p>He finally dislodges his foot from the floor and purposely takes long, deep breaths with each careful step until there is only the wood of the door between them. </p><p>Outside, Osamu imagines Suna is standing casually, shoulders hunched, eyes bored, hands in some pocket or other, as unaffected as always. He opens the door as he breathes out and sees the image he had conjured up, except for the fact that Suna’s eyes are downturned, watching his foot kick at something that isn’t there. It takes him a moment to realise Osamu has opened the door. His head shoots up and a small not quite coy smile forms on his lips. His hair is also neater than usual, his t-shirt one that Osamu hasn’t seen before, which instantly makes him feel nervous about what he is wearing. He should have made more of an effort he-</p><p>“Hey,” Suna says, “you gonna let me in?” He looks around him, his smile mischievous. When he turns back to Osamu, he begins opening his mouth slowly, deliberately, the action telepathically telling Osamu exactly what he is going to say before he even makes a sound.</p><p>“Shut up,” Osamu says, the same fire previously constrained to his abdomen roars up through his system, lighting his face. He steps aside, hoping to hide the awful red splotches he knows are blossoming on his cheeks and neck.</p><p>Possibly taking pity, possibly just content that he’d flustered Osamu enough, possibly something else Osamu didn’t even consider, Suna doesn’t say anything out loud. He steps inside, a grin still on his face - but it’s slightly forced now, plastered weakly; a crack still showing in the drywall.</p><p>“Do you, eh, want a drink or anything?” Osamu asks as Suna shuffles off his shoes and places them carefully, taking time to line them up neatly. </p><p>He shakes his head, some of his hair falling gently out of place, hiding his face a little more. “I‘m okay,” he replies, taking another moment before he straightens up to face Osamu again.</p><p>They stand like that, on either side of no man’s land facing each other a little awkwardly, both waiting for the other to make the first move and save themself the embarrassment and vulnerability of making the first move. Osamu finds his voice first, buried under a boulder sized manifestation of nerves and awkwardness lodged in his throat.</p><p>“I got the lube and the condoms, they’re,” he tries to swallow the mortification that’s tightening every joint in his body, “they’re in my room.”</p><p>Suna blinks at him, his lip quirking, “wow ‘Samu, you really know how to get a guy all hot and bothered.” Osamu watches him bite the inside of his cheek, the corners of his mouth twitching, a laugh clearly held back though not very well. </p><p>In response, Osamu feels the flare of embarrassment and nervousness again, translating themselves as petulance in his voice when he says, “yeah well, I didn’t see you saying anything.” The annoyance tickles and tries to consolidate itself behind his eyes, but is quickly forced out with a small, easy, almost reflexive laugh at himself as he watches the wrinkles forming at the corners of Suna’s eyes.</p><p>Suna takes this as permission to allow his own grin to manifest, his shoulders loosening slightly, hands falling out of his pockets. </p><p>“Shut up,” Osamu says, reaching and grabbing one of Suna’s hands, and giving it a tug.</p><p>“I didn’t say anything.”</p><p>“Didn’t hafta.”</p><p>Osamu’s house only ever seemed large when he was young. At the age of 13 it felt about right. At the age of 16 it began to feel small.  Now, at the age of 18 and measuring over six feet with an identical brother taking up too much room with his massive ego, it often felt cramped. This was the first time he had felt small in a very long time, the walk to his room far larger and longer than he ever remembered, echoing the shuffling steps behind him so they’re all he can hear. His room too feels too big, so big that everything they do and say could be amplified or lost or both. </p><p>He leads them to sit on the edge of the bed, those niggling and wiggling feelings still toying with his insides, still attempting to make his hands shake, pushing out the little hairs on his arms despite the heat of the day. He picks up the bag, the plastic rustling too loud in the room that still feels too big, and places it between them. </p><p>Suna looks from him to the plastic heap. </p><p>Neither says anything and Osamu squeezes his damp hands between his knees and waits expectantly as Suna pushes at the plastic and opens it wide, eyes flitting over the contents. He looks up at Osamu again, then down at the bag, and suddenly his head is thrown back and his laugh is being repeated over and over in the cavernous room, bouncing and coming back, redoubling and expanding and surrounding.</p><p>“What?” Osamu asks a little self-consciously and tugs the bag back towards himself, scanning the contents, trying to puzzle out why Suna is laughing, and why so much. It feels like an abstract painting he doesn't understand, or like trying to translate a foreign language with nothing but a dictionary - he sees all the same things as Suna but cannot fathom the hilarity in it. </p><p>Osamu looks back at him and knows his eyes are wide and wondering, he knows what he probably looks like but he can’t help it. </p><p>“What?” He whines the word longer and slower than before, the petulance increasing the pitch of his voice. “Rin!”</p><p>Suna’s shaking his head, tousling his perfectly styled hair even further, one hand going to cover his mouth as he attempts to regain composure, hiccuping slightly. He tries to say something, but clamps his mouth shut again when a only raucous laughter comes out. It shouldn’t be funny, but it is. Laughing feels like the only thing he can do right now, one of those moments when it’s the only way to break the tension tightening his throat and stomach, beginning to make his mind run a little too quickly. </p><p>Instead of trying to say anything again, he reaches into the bag with his free hand and pulls out what he had found so funny.</p><p>“What?” Osamu asks again, each sound dragged out, but he feels the infectiousness of Suna’s joy dancing beneath his own skin. </p><p>“Protein bars?” Suna manages to say, pulling one out, dropping it onto the bed, picking up another item, “Potari Sweat?”</p><p>“I thought we might get hungry, need energy,” Osamu answers, trying to be serious, but feels his body betraying him, the small laughs breaking up the sentence.</p><p>Suna lets out another short burst of laughter and grabs Osamu’s face between his hands, gently pressing his cheeks, feeling the joy in his stomach twisting into something else for the person in front of him. </p><p>“Osamu, you are the cutest idiot I have ever met.”</p><p>Osamu pulls a face in reply and narrows his eyes, “ya really know how ta get a guy all hot and bothered don’tcha.”</p><p>Suna snorts, “Fair point.” He pulls back and returns to the bag, pulling out the little bottle of lube and box of condoms, a question worming its way from his mind to his mouth. “Do you, eh, do you know how to put one of these on?” </p><p>“I watched some videos, I think I have an... idea.” Osamu replies, looking at the far too colourful box in Suna’s hand, and takes it from him. </p><p>“Same,” Suna watches him open the tab and extract the little information sheet with cartoonish images trying to instruct the correct procedure for condom application. “It can’t be that hard,” he says, leaning over and reaching into the box, extracting one of the foil wrappers, squishing it lightly between his fingers. “Should we open one up first and see what it’s like.”</p><p>Osamu just nods, eyes moving to Suna’s long fingers and watches him struggle with the serrated edge. He tries to grip the edge and pull, but his fingers slip, not able to rip it. The foil bends but doesn’t break and he tries again.</p><p>Impatient, Osamu snatches it and bites the edge with an incisor. He feels the package rip a little too quickly, the condom almost falling to the floor. Suna catches it and holds it carefully between his forefinger and his thumb.</p><p>“Here,” Osamu says, spitting the edge of the wrapper onto the floor, and holds up two fingers.</p><p>Suna blinks twice, he probably would laugh but something seemed to have suddenly swallowed all his capability to do so. Osamu watches his face, he knows the set of his eyebrows too well; he’s beginning to overthink, he’s now almost morbid in his seriousness, a stark contrast to the carefree infectious laughter from not five minutes ago.</p><p>“‘Samu,” Suna says carefully, a condom held precariously between his fingers - as if he was hoping to maintain as little connection to the object as possible - eyes fixed on Osamu’s fingers, “are you sure Atumu isn’t gonna walk in?”</p><p>At the mention of his brother’s name, Osamu lets his head and hand drop onto Suna’s shoulder, a pained guttural sound going straight to Suna’s ear. Osamu makes a point of tapping his forehead against Suna’s shoulder, punctuating every word he says in an attempt to physically drive it into him, “I told’ya, don’t say my brother’s name. Not when we’re… just don’t, please.” He pulls back and looks Suna in the eyes, sighing. “Yes, I’m sure. He wouldn’t wanna come home before he’s told ta anyway.” </p><p>Suna nods, considering the truth in Osamu’s words; the last thing Atsumu would want would be to walk in on them in a state of compromise. He gave out enough when they used to share lunch, whispered and conspired, looked at each other too long. He even made a point to groan loudly like an animal in pain whenever they touched, no matter how innocent. Of course this had only ever encouraged the touching, and it took Atsumu far too long to realise that maybe not reacting would be the best course of action. </p><p>Suna nods again, more confident and holds up the condom to Osamu, who reciprocates by raising and offering his fingers again. The rubber is placed over them, and Suna tries to roll it down like the videos had shown people demonstrating on bananas and dildos, but the little rolled edge seems suck, unlike the videos that had made it look so smooth. </p><p>“Yer supposed to hold the top,” Osamu cuts in through his concentration and pinches the tip of the condom with his second hand. “Something about space for the semen.”</p><p>He’s met with an indignant sound and a twisted face.</p><p>“What? That’s what it’s for!” he defends and Suna doesn’t have the capacity to give a snarky comment like he usually would, his head too focused on Osamu’s fingers.</p><p>He rolls his fingers down the lubricated rubber again, and once again fails to roll it down his boyfriend’s fingers. </p><p>Osamu sees the set in Suna’s jaw, face furrowing more deeply than he thinks he’s ever seen before. Yeah, he’s definitely overthinking, his expressions tend to heighten when he’s frustrated or annoyed and they are definitely heightened.</p><p>“I think…” Osamu starts, trying to be helpful, “I think it’s inside out.”</p><p>The condom is on the floor by the time Osamu finishes speaking. They both look at the pathetic, limp thing lying on the ground beside its empty packet and the box that had fallen with the two remaining condoms scattered beside it.</p><p>Without saying anything, trying to shift some focus, Osamu reaches over and grabs the bottle of lube from where it had fallen into Suna’s lap and shakes it in his face, trying to undo the expression there. “It’s bubblegum flavour.” </p><p>When he doesn’t get a response, he continues to peel off the plastic wrap with his teeth, and flicks open the cap. He sniffs it, makes a face as if to say ‘not bad’ and squirts a lump onto his hand.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Suna asks, revived from whatever inner monologue he was probably having.</p><p>Osamu doesn’t respond, instead rubbing the gel in circles on his palm, testing the feel of it. It’s cold. That probably wouldn’t be pleasant. “It’s cold... Should I like, warm it up?” </p><p>Suna looks positively exhausted, somewhere between the time coach had made them do nothing but running drills and that one English exam that they mutually pretended didn’t happen and took a lot of chuupets and reassurances to forget. </p><p>“What, like in the microwave?”</p><p>Osamu shrugs in response, “I thought ‘bout maybe puttin’ the tube in a bowl of hot water.” </p><p>Suna looks from Osamu’s face to the ruined and scattered condoms on the floor to the lube on his hand.</p><p>“We’re terrible at this,” Suna sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry ‘Samu, I know-”</p><p>“Shut up Suna,” Osamu cuts him off, dropping the bottle to the floor to join its comrades, and reaches for a tissue from the night stand, “it’s not a big deal.”</p><p>There’s surprise on Suna’s face, clearly he’s caught off guard at Osamu’s outburst. Maybe it was a little too much, but he knows what Suna is thinking. He knows he’s been thinking too much about this whole thing for the last week. Knows that his mind has been malfunctioning and overheating since he pulled out the packet of condoms and it all became <em>real</em>. He knows Suna thinks he’s ruined a special moment, one they’d both been waiting for, one they’d been planning for a while, and yeah they had planned it, but it wasn’t something to get worked up about. </p><p>“I mean… there’s no rush. Yeah like, yeah obviously I want to jump yer bones and climb ya like a tree and all them euphemisms but… we got a long time. I mean, yeah you’re gonna be a big hotshot volleyball player and have all these fangirls,” Suna rolls his eyes at that, “but I’ll be a super sexy business owner.”</p><p>Suna’s face eases a bit and he quirks an eyebrow, “Was there a point to that?”</p><p>“Yes and I lost it ‘cause I can’t believe I hafta explain it ta ya,” he shakes out his arms and repositions himself so he’s sitting cross legged, body facing Suna. </p><p>“Suna Rintarou. I really fuckin’ like ya. Like <em>really</em> like ya. I love ya actually if that’s okay to say. But I’ve loved ya a long time, and I plan on doing so fer a helluva lot longer. I don’t care if this is our ‘last’” he raises his hands and makes two dramatic quotation marks with his fingers and begins talking again as Suna tries to answer, raising his voice to drown out whatever rebuttal he may have. “... summer before we have to act our ages, but we’re still eighteen, eighteen. That gives us at least another...” he raises his eyes to the slats on the bed above him, attempting to calculate something in his head, “sixty-two years. So where’s the rush?” He asks the last part smugly, leaning back, ready for Suna to tell him he’s right and that he had been an idiot and was over thinking. Also that he, Osamu, is the best boyfriend he could ever have asked for.</p><p>But his confidence starts to falter the more he watches Suna’s face. Suna always held a deadpan expression, but there was something almost cold in the expression he wore now.</p><p>“Fuck,” Suna enunciates slowly after a moment too long, “you” his palm swings down and smacks Osamu’s thigh playfully.</p><p>Osamu retracts his leg and makes a faux affronted sound, ready to complain or ask a question or just something, but it’s his turn to be cut off as Suna moves fully onto the bed, tucking his knees beneath him. </p><p>“Did you seriously just say you love me like that?” He runs his hands through his hair again, little flyaways sticking up here and there. “You just dropped it so casually, I wanted to,” he makes an incomprehensible sound and reaches to slap Osamu’s leg again a little harder, but he’s too slow and Osamu grins at him. “I wanted it to be special.”</p><p>“And ya wanted this here,” Osamu gestures at the littered floor, “ta be special too and really it made it harder.” He leans over and mimics Suna’s gesture from before, holding his face in his hands. “I love ya Suna Rintarou. I do. I love ya. I love ya, I love ya, I love ya I-” he repeats like a mantra until Suna pulls himself free, places a palm against Osamu’s forehead and pushes him back gently. </p><p>“Suna,” Osamu starts again, “this is a big deal, but it doesn’t have to be made out ta be one. I mean it’s us, we’ve always been easy, can’t it just… be easy?”</p><p>Suna eyes him cautiously, “I hate you.”</p><p>“No, ya just said you love me.”</p><p>“No. I didn’t.”</p><p>Osamu cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah. Well then stop keeping me waiting.”</p><p>“Osamu,” Suna whines and falls backwards onto the bed. But the room is too small for two young men over six feet tall, and the bunk bed is far smaller. </p><p>Osamu winces at the ‘thunk’ before he bursts out laughing, as Suna begins groaning and cursing at the pain in his head. Osamu peels himself off the bed and begins to plod down the hall, still laughing. He supposes this will be a chance for Suna to organise whatever thoughts he can conjure through the pain radiating from the back of his head. He goes to the freezer and pulls out one of the ice packs they always have in there and takes a moment to try and replicate Suna’s possible headspace, but can’t because trying to think about how something was ‘wrong’ between them was near impossible. </p><p>Things between them have always been easy; they simply fell into place beside each other and worked in harmony effortlessly. Arguably they had been dating long before they were dating. Well at least most people thought they had been anyway. So the need to make a deal about sleeping together was probably always doomed to fail, it was just going to happen when it was supposed to. </p><p>“Surprised that even hurt, considering yer skull’s so thick” Osamu quips returning to the room,  his voice tinged in soft mocking, yet he ensures his hand and fingers are tender as he lifts Suna’s head and tucks the ice pack beneath it. </p><p>“Move up.” He instructs and Suna shuffles himself further down the bed while Osamu maneuvers himself between the two beds and sits cross-legged behind his head. “C’mere.”</p><p>Suna opens his eyes and leans back to look at him, but Osamu just repeats the request. Grabbing a pillow, Suna complies with the instruction, places the pillow between Osamu’s legs, followed by the ice pack, and then his own head. </p><p>They stay like this a while and Osamu begins to carelessly play with Suna’s ruined hair, quietly humming something tunelessly to himself. As he does this, he continues to carefully watch Suna’s face for any change in expression, trying to read and understand what is going on behind it though he knows it’s futile: Suna is both dumber and smarter than him so he can never figure out what he’s thinking when he gets like this. </p><p>Eventually, Suna opens his eyes and looks up at Osamu with tired, fond eyes.</p><p>“Sixty-eight years?” he asks.</p><p>Osamu breaks his tune to hum an affirmative, “at least.”</p><p>Suna watches him, “So that means I have to deal with Atsumu for at least sixty-eight years too?”</p><p>Osamu wrinkles his nose, “Nah, we snap in another five years and,” he removes one hand from Suna’s hair, draws a finger across his throat and lets his head fall limply to the side with his tongue falling out playing dead.</p><p>“Sounds about right,” Suna nods.</p><p>“Unless some poor soul decides to claim him for themself and we’re relieved from active duty, then it’s extended to maybe fifteen.”</p><p>Suna huffs a laugh and Osamu smiles easily down at him. Suna groans loudly from his throat and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, then throws them back down beside him.</p><p>“Ya done being dramatic?”</p><p>“No.” Suna mumbles and Osamu’s body shakes lightly with suppressed laughter. </p><p>Suna lifts himself up and turns to face Osamu who’s watching him with fond amusement, a smile ready to break from behind his pursed lips.</p><p>“You know what,” Suna starts, “Yes I love you. I’m sorry I tried to rush things and just made them more awkward and a bigger deal than they are. I just… I’m going to miss you and I love you and I wanted to prove that, I wanted…” he winces at his own words, “I wanted to do something special.” His nose curls, most definitely at this expression of tender softness.</p><p>A smile spreads over Osamu’s face, but it’s not the same teasing mirth as was there before, this one is smaller but fuller, his eyes almost twinkling as he breathes a deep sigh. </p><p>“Thank god ya finally said it, I was getting worried ya wouldn’t.”</p><p>“Obviously I was going to say it.”</p><p>“Still it’s nice to actually hear it.” He pauses, “maybe I shoulda made it more romantic with like roses and-”</p><p>He’s cut off by Suna pressing his lips against his and mumbling, “shut up and kiss me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you cannot tell me their first time wouldn't be a lot of awkwardness and fumbling </p><p>thanks to k as always for helping me when I needed it (she's on <a href="https://twitter.com/de_sociate">twitter</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/de_sociate/pseuds/de_sociate">ao3</a>)</p><p>come chat with me on <a href="https://twitter.com/ohmiyamy/status/1348762060390359040?s=20">twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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